


We Will Try

by Johnnlocked (Krullenbol2602)



Series: For John, only for John, we will try [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, And John loves them both in return., Blow Jobs, Bottom John, Come Shot, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Language, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, POV John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pillow Talk, Pining, Polyamory Negotiations, Sherlock and James love John so much!, Sleepy Cuddles, Threesome - M/M/M, Top James Sholto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krullenbol2602/pseuds/Johnnlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are happy, ridiculously so. But there is one piece of John that Sherlock can never reach. One part of his heart that he will never have. And Sherlock wants to see it. He wants to know all of John Watson. </p><p>So they invite James Sholto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have never been in a polyamorous relationship or situation. This is in no way, shape or form meant to insult, belittle or ridicule those of you who are.

It had been good. No, Sherlock rectified himself immediately when the thought sprung to mind. Not good. Amazing. Wonderful. Never would he have imagined that his life would – and could – turn out like it had. He was happy, nauseatingly so. But Sherlock didn’t care. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so at ease with himself and those around him and he wouldn’t change it. Not for anything.

 

Because John was with him. Back home, in Baker Street. Divorced, yes. A little older, a little more grey, but he was home. And even though John had been back for over a year, Sherlock couldn’t help but still feel elated at the sound of John typing on his laptop. It was strange how a thing so seemingly meaningless, could bear so much weight inside his heart.

 

‘You’re staring, love.’

 

Sherlock’s heart skipped a bit. Love. An endearment so easily given, often with a smile so warm it made Sherlock want to kiss it. And now, he could.

 

He rose to his feet and leaned over John’s shoulder to brush his lips against John’s smile. John’s eyes were crinkled, his face relaxed. Happy. In love. Sherlock kissed him again.

 

‘What is it?’

 

Sherlock shook his head and John didn’t press for an answer.

 

Eleven months now and at times like this Sherlock still couldn’t believe his luck. John loved him. Sherlock nuzzled his face against John’s neck, peering over his shoulder to look at the screen as John resumed his typing.

 

An email. To Sholto.

 

They had gotten back in touch after John’s divorce. After John had spent a couple of nights there when he hadn’t been sure he was still welcome at Baker Street. Sholto had called him and Sherlock drove up to the isolated cottage to come pick John – angry and grieving over the lies he had fallen to and utterly drunk – up and bring him back home.

 

Sherlock had encouraged John to keep Sholto close. John obviously trusted him with what he was feeling – and Sherlock had ignored the stab of jealousy he had felt when Sholto called him. John had gone to him, someone from years ago as opposed to him. Hadn’t John see that Sherlock would never ever turn his back on him? That he couldn’t say ‘no’ to him? He had killed for him, been willing to sacrifice it all for his happiness. But Sherlock had said nothing. Not at that time anyway.

 

Sherlock knew he had Sholto to thank for John’s stammered apology and explanation. For their feelings to be laid bare after all those years. He knew it had been because of his pressing and convincing that John had dared to take the plunge at all. Sherlock had thanked Sholto in private when John was away for work and he had taken his advice to heart.

 

_‘Don’t make the same mistakes I made, Mr Holmes. John deserves better.’_

Sherlock had seen it at the wedding. The love that had grown and withered unspoken between Sholto and John. It had been torn apart by circumstances and prejudices before they had time to figure things out. The regrets that followed after John had been shot and Sholto had been destroyed not long after. Sherlock had been jealous then. He had hated Sholto for throwing it away, for not fighting harder. But he understood now. Sometimes fighting for something isn’t enough and you end up destroying yourself in the process. Sometimes love wasn’t enough.

 

Still…

 

There was something in John’s gaze whenever Sholto came up in conversation or when his phone chimed, bearing a new message for his old commander and friend. And strangely, Sherlock didn’t feel jealous. How could he? Sholto made John smile, made him think of happier days in a dark past. And due to his role in their relationship, Sherlock could feel nothing but gratitude and admiration for the man. He knew what it was like to give John up to someone else. The pain of it.

 

And Sherlock knew John. He knew John would have stayed if Sholto had let him closer. He was like that, unwilling to give up. Ready to fight. Always the soldier.

 

John was still typing with a faint smile on his lips when Sherlock came up with the idea.

 

It might be a bit not good but it felt unfair not to try. Sherlock might have been called selfish on multiple occasions and he would have to agree if he was honest, but when it came to John, there wasn’t anything he would not do.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John ask, confess and negotiate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been in a polyamorous relationship or situation. This is in no way, shape or form meant to insult, belittle or ridicule those of you who are.

‘Christ, Sherlock…’

 

Oh, how Sherlock loved doing this. The flush of John’s skin, his moans and grunts. His reddened lips, still swollen and moist from when he sucked Sherlock to completion mere moments before Sherlock had pushed him to his back, slicked up his fingers, and pressed them inside.

 

Sherlock moved his hand slowly, dragging it out. Making him beg.

 

‘Sherlock… oh come on, please!’

 

The way his name rolled of John’s tongue… How could Sherlock resist?

 

He pressed his fingers there where John wanted them the most, massaging the gland hidden inside of him and John’s back arched of the bed. The muscles flexed and relaxed around Sherlock’s  fingers as he came, a shout escaping him.

 

The sight was glorious. Sherlock couldn’t look away if he tried to. To think that it was he who did this to John. He, who had made him unravel. It never got old and Sherlock suspected it never would.

 

Later, when they both had regained their ability to breathe and Sherlock has cleaned the cum of John’s chest and belly, they wrapped themselves up around each other. It was then when Sherlock suggested it.

 

‘You should invite him.’

 

‘Hmm?’ John responded lazily.

 

‘Sholto. James. You’ve been emailing for a while and you’ve been entertaining the idea of meeting up. You should invite him over. For dinner.’

 

John moved, settling himself on his elbows to look up at Sherlock’s face. ‘You want to invite him over for dinner?’

 

‘Come on John, keep up. You had an orgasm, not a lobotomy.’

 

‘Cheers for that one. But Sherlock… you… well, you don’t do that. You hate company.’

 

Sherlock shrugged and John’s frown deepened. ‘Sherlock…’

 

‘You are friends. People invite their friends over for the dinner, don’t they? And I don’t mind. He is… intriguing.’

 

‘Intriguing.’ John didn’t buy it. Of course he didn’t; he knew Sherlock better than that. To suggest a dinner date… Sherlock had to admit he might have handled this differently. ‘What on Earth do you mean by that?’

 

‘I meant that…’ Sherlock pondered about his words for a moment. He couldn’t barge in. John would clamp up, become defensive. Delicately; that was the way for this. ‘I’m curious.’

 

‘Oh God…’ John muttered, a hint of amusement in his tone. ‘You can ask. You know that right?’

 

Oh.

Well, in that case.

 

‘You were involved once, weren’t you? In the army?’

 

John sighed deeply, hiding his face away against Sherlock’s chest and for a moment Sherlock feared that he had gone too far. That John would deny everything. That he had ruined the newly found contact between the two men. But John, as ever, surprised him.

 

‘Sort of,’ John admitted, still not looking at Sherlock. ‘It was… Christ, it was war. Sometimes you just got lonely, or the adrenaline got too much and it… with James it was easy. I guess. We liked each other from the start. He had a great sense of humour and was good for his men. It was… good, for a while.’

 

John swallowed and rose his face so he could meet Sherlock’s curious gaze. ‘But it was dangerous. Not just getting caught but the risks of being out there. He nearly got blown up once and I…’

 

Sherlock could hear it in his voice. The panic. The fear. And the realisation that things had gone too far without him ever realising it. Sherlock knew the feeling well. Only he had felt in a room filled with people instead of an active warzone.

‘I called it off, got shot two days later and I didn’t see him again. I tried to contact him when I was back in London and again when I heard about what had happened to him but, he never responded. I sent him another email when you had left and we met up once after that but it wasn’t… He wasn’t the same.’

 

‘Because of what happened?’

 

John sighed. ‘Yeah, that too. But also between us. I had hurt him, he had hurt me and we never talked about it.’

 

‘You could talk over dinner.’

 

John looked at him with suspicion in his eyes. ‘What are you… oh.’ John moved, straddling Sherlock’s hips and he placed his hands firmly on either side of his head. He stared him down. ‘Sherlock, I love you. Whatever was between me and him… it is history, okay? Done. Over and finished. There is no reason for you to be jealous.’

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Oh, how wrong John was. ‘I’m not jealous,’ he declared and John raised his eyebrow in disbelief. ‘I am not! But you get that look in your eyes when you email him and I…’

 

‘Sherlock…’

 

‘No, shut up. I’ve seen it and I don’t mind John. I know you love me and I love you. So does he. And you still care for him too.’

 

John didn’t say anything for a moment. But Sherlock could see that he wasn’t going to argue; he was right and John knew it. ‘Jesus, Sherlock… what are you saying?’

 

Sherlock steeled himself. This was it. ‘That I can share. If you… if you want. I want you happy, John and I know you’re happy with me but I can’t help but feel like there is something, some part of you that can only be happy with him. And I want to see that part. I want to know all of you.’

 

John buried his face in the crook of Sherlock’s neck, hiding himself from view again. Sherlock could feel the tightness in his shoulders and his trembling breath. God, how long had he been hiding this? From the world? From himself? How heavy had the weight of his guilt become in the months he and John had been together.

 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, letting his fingers follow the line of John’s spine. ‘I love you, John Watson, and you love me. Please. Believe me when I tell you I know that. I know what I am saying and I know what I am allowing. Invite him over, talk to him…’

 

‘Have sex with him?’

 

‘If you want. If he wants. Whatever you need.’ Sherlock had to press down the heat spreading to his cock at the thought of John and James together like that. Not now, this was not for him, Sherlock though firmly to himself. This was for John.

 

‘I want you there... if you – Jesus, I can’t believe we’re even discussing this – but I want you there with me. Us. If we – ’

 

Sherlock nodded and John moved his head to claim his lips in a bruising kiss. ‘I love you,’ he whispered whenever they part to catch their breaths and Sherlock could feel the words reverberate in the movements of John’s hands on his skin. ‘I love you so fucking much, Sherlock… Christ, I don’t deserve you.’

 

Yes, you do, Sherlock thought to himself. You deserve so much more than either of us can give you, John Watson. But we can try. We can try to be enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your reactions mean the world to me. Please, let me know what you think of it so far.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner. And more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been in a polyamorous relationship or situation. This is in no way, shape or form meant to insult, belittle or ridicule those of you who are.

Without the heat of his jealousy tainting his view, like it had on the wedding, Sherlock was mesmerised by the two men in the kitchen of Baker Street.

 

Sholto – James, Sherlock corrected himself – seemed more at ease than he had back then. Well, no one had tried to kill him here so there was that to take into consideration. He talked more, and he laughed. Real smiles and John got that soft and loving look in his eyes that Sherlock adored.

They had fun and Sherlock found himself smiling in response. It was good to see James relax like this. To be able to see a glimpse of the man he had been before things had gone horribly wrong.

 

James knew what was going on; Sherlock could see it the moment he entered the flat. Sherlock wondered how much John had told him. He had greeting John in their usual manner – straight backs and raised chins, both of them every inch of the soldier they once were – and greeting him his a firm handshake that had seemed to linger.

 

Sherlock had not expected, but hadn’t been completely surprised by the flush of arousal coiling in his gut at the touch.

 

And John… John was nervous. He rambled, desperate to fill up the silences that fell, keeping their glasses filled. Sherlock made a vague mental note to enhance John’s acting skills. But if James noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

 

The two men were cleaning up the dishes, occasionally sipping their wine, their shoulders brushing as they worked. And they were talking.

 

Sherlock couldn’t hear what they were saying and he refrained from moving closer to overhear. This had been the point of it all. For them to sort things out between them.

And for them to… oh!

 

Sherlock’s mouth dried up at the sight of James pressing a soap covered hand to the small of John’s back. John stilled underneath his touch and Sherlock could see the tension leave his body on a trembling exhale. James was looking at Sherlock, questioning, making sure, but Sherlock’s eyes were fixed on John. It was remarkable, seeing John like that.

 

With him, John tended to lead, apart from the rare occasions and Sherlock was more than happy with the dynamic between them. John was more experienced when it came to sex and after Sherlock felt like he had caught up with John, he had no desire to change what they already had. But this, this was different.

 

John was leaning into the touch but he made no move to return the gesture. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to – Sherlock could see it; John did want to – but he was waiting. But why?

 

‘Sherlock?’ James’ deep gravelly voice interrupted Sherlock’s train of though and his gaze snapped to him. Oh. Him. They were waiting for him… But…

 

‘I don’t mind.’ The words were rushed but he meant them. He had told John he would leave if they wanted him to and that hadn’t changed.

James’ face softened a little and John turned around, moving away from his hand. But they weren’t out of reach from each other for even a second. They moved in sync, closer, ever closer and Sherlock straightened himself in his chair. Had they been like this back then? God, the mere thought of it made him ache.

 

‘Sherlock…’ John reached out to him, pulling him to his feet and closer to him. Sherlock followed without hesitation. ‘I told you; I want you there. Here. With me.’

 

‘With us,’ James added.

 

They’d spoken about this, Sherlock realised as he took in both men. James looked calm, in control. The commander. And James was curious and more than a bit aroused.

James licked his lips and suddenly it dawned on Sherlock; he wasn’t just here for John. They talked about him as a part of this and James had agreed.

 

Sherlock’s heart pounded when John moved even closer to him, pressing their chests together. He cradled his face in his hands so he could pull him down. Their lips brushed.

 

Sherlock could taste the wine on John’s lips and it drew him in. Their chests were pressed together now, their kiss deepened and a shudder through John’s body, made Sherlock pull back.

James had moved. He was standing behind John now, leaning down, tracing his lips along the line of John’s neck. John’s mouth was parted, his eyes closed and he gripped Sherlock’s shirt to keep himself upright.

 

James met Sherlock’s gaze and Sherlock nodded.

 

They moved; James led them, placing his hand on John’s upper arm, while John quietly told him which door to take to the downstairs bedroom. Sherlock followed them, his hand wrapped around John’s. John squeezed his fingers but whether it was to reassure himself or Sherlock, he couldn’t tell.

 

When Sherlock closed the door of the bedroom behind them, nobody moved for a moment. John and James were staring at each other, neither of them sure. Sherlock remembered what it had felt like, that first time he and John had slept together. For years he had dreamt of that moment and when it had arrived, he hadn’t known what to do.

But he knew now.

 

Without releasing John’s hand, Sherlock moved closer, pressing himself against John’s back. James’ gaze moved from John to him now and Sherlock moved his head in a silent invitation before he lowered his head. He knew where James had kissed John before; he could see the trail of saliva behind his left ear. And when Sherlock’s lips touched that same of part him, John trembled in response.

 

Sherlock closed his eyes and for a moment he thought he could taste James on John’s skin. He gripped John’s hips, rubbing himself against John’s arse. A whimper escaped John’s lips and Sherlock groaned against his skin in response. They were both hard – Sherlock could see the bulge straining against John’s trousers when he opened his eyes and looked down.

 

James moved. It only took his two steps before he reached John and he placed his good hand on the other side of John’s head. John tilted his head up the same moment James lowered his and their lips met.

 

Sherlock’s breath was nearly knocked right out of him. This was a hunger that rivalled their first kiss. A desperate movement of lips and tongues and teeth. James was leading John and John seemed to fall back into that dynamic with ease. He moved whenever James did, responded in kind when James changed his rhythm. But Sherlock could see the trembling of James’ fingers as the stroked John’s cheek with his thumb. He was nowhere near in control as he would have liked to be.

 

So, Sherlock decided to help.

 

He let go of John’s hips and moved his hands to his front. Sherlock’s fingers brushed James’ chest in the process, earning him a shiver from the other man, but he moved on. Later, Sherlock told himself. If he could, he would do that later.

Instead, he moved his hands until they found the buttons of John’s shirt. And he undid them. One by one.

 

John’s head fell back on Sherlock’s chest when James let go of his mouth in favour of John’s skin. He sucked, licked and nuzzled all the way down until he was on his knees and Sherlock had managed to undo the shirt. He pulled it away from John’s frame, exposing his torso to them both.

 

James eyes flickered up to John’s scar for a moment and Sherlock could see something dark cross his face. Not now, Sherlock thought to himself, making sure John wouldn’t notice by sucking the skin behind his ear. This wasn’t the time.

Sherlock’s hands found John’s belt and it is enough to pull James attention away from the marred skin.

 

‘Jesus Christ… you two…’ John sounded absolutely wrecked and Sherlock smiled against his skin.

 

The feeling of James’ hand sliding over his own, made Sherlock look down over John’s shoulder again. James had diverted his attention away from them, focussing on the movements of Sherlock’s fingers on the belt. They opened it together and with a little help from Sherlock, James pulled down John’s trousers and pants. And oh, how Sherlock knew that look well.

 

James licked his lips at the sight of John’s erection. As he moved forward with his lips parted, Sherlock hands slid up, making sure he hit every single of John’s most sensitive body parts along the way. His sides. His nipples. His collarbone.

 

John was practically shivering underneath their ministration, silently begging them both for more. He wouldn’t beg out loud. Yet. But he came damned close when James’ mouth engulfed his cock.

 

‘Fuck! James…’

 

James hummed around him and Sherlock loosened his arms around John a little, content to simply watch them. He was still pressed against John’s back and Sherlock could feel John leaning into him. Sherlock wished he was standing next to them. He couldn’t keep his eyes on them both like this and the angle of John’s face was all wrong. He was missing too much.

 

Sherlock tried to step back a little, but John’s hand immediately reached back and grabbed Sherlock’s hips, grinding them together again and James had stopped.

 

‘Together,’ John groaned and Sherlock found himself nodding in response.

 

Together. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been in a polyamorous relationship or situation. This is in no way, shape or form meant to insult, belittle or ridicule those of you who are.

John pulled James back up onto his feet, his hands rushing to get the clothes off of his body. Apparently John didn’t like being the only one naked.

James said nothing though Sherlock could see the amusement in his eyes. He tried to picture them both, younger than they were now, just as impatient. Hiding themselves away from judging eyes, high on adrenaline and lust. Sherlock could see it clear as day in his mind’s eye, just as he could in the shapes and movements of the two men in front of him.

 

But there was something else too. Something more reverent and patient. And when John shrugged off James’ shirt and helped him get it over his bad arm, Sherlock realised. They hadn’t seen each other like this before. Their last time had been from before John had been shot. This was as new to them as it was for him.

 

John’s hands traced the muscles of James’ chest and stomach, while staying clear of the scars, causing him to shiver.

Sherlock followed the movement diligently. James was a handsome man, scars and all. He had thought so upon first meeting him. Strong, sturdy, a presence to be reckoned with despite his discomfort with crowds – he reminded him of John in many ways.

 

Sherlock reached out from behind John, tracing the edges of James’ scars with his fingertips.

 

‘Sherlock…’ John sounded unsure but James shook his head.

 

‘It’s fine, John. I’m okay.’

 

James met Sherlock’s eyes before Sherlock continued with his exploration. He had spent hours on John’s scar. Figuring out the bullet, the velocity, the angle at which he had been shot. The infections and surgeries that had followed. He knew it like he knew his own hands.  

 

And suddenly Sherlock realised that he wanted to explore James like that as well. Map out every inch of his skin. Find out what made him shiver. What made him moan and writhe. To feel the weight of him in his hands.

 

Another time.

 

James hummed underneath their hands. He stepped forward, pressing himself fully against John’s chest and both of their arms slipped around James’ bare torso. John very nearly sagged between them. Sherlock’s erection was pressing up hard against John’s lower back and James made sure his hip was firmly pressed against John’s groin. John was still clutching Sherlock’s hip, keeping him close and James used the lack of distance and his height to tilt his head over John’s shoulder.

 

Sherlock realised he was going to be kissed by James a moment before it happened.

 

 _His lips are firmer than John’s_ , Sherlock thought to himself and his eyes fluttered closed. But, like with John, there was no question about who was in control. James consumed. He owned. Claimed. Sherlock’s knees grew weak with the implication and he heard John make a desperate sound in the back of his throat.

 

James pulled back a little, regarding Sherlock with heavy lidded eyes and Sherlock stretched his neck for more without properly realising it.

 

‘Right,’ John rasped out. ‘You two are wearing too much. Strip and move to the bed, because I can’t handle much more of this.’

 

Sherlock blinked his eyes open, hands already moving to his shirt to undo the buttons. James merely smiled and raised an eyebrow. ‘You dealing out the orders now, Watson?’

 

‘Oh shut up.’

 

James chuckled deeply, but he undid his trousers anyway. He stepped out of them and his pants followed his trousers to the floor shortly after and John moved away from Sherlock to crawl on the bed along with James.

 

John and James were kissing again, mouths more hungry, hands bolder in their exploration. Sherlock watched them, hands frozen on his buttons. _This is perfect,_ he thought. And it was. The onslaught of information Sherlock received from just watching them was staggering. This was John like he had never seen him before, not once in all those months. This was a younger John, more carefree, more lust driven. And Sherlock sensed the same change in James. It was stunning.

 

He must have made a noise because suddenly both men turned their attention to him. James beckoned him over with a nod and a smile and John reached out his hand. ‘Come here, love. Please.’

 

Sherlock did.

 

They fell together easily after that. Sherlock read James’ reactions to John’s movements like a book and quickly copied them, caressing him, stroking him while he and John kissed. John showed James how and where to touch Sherlock. They moaned and gasped in each other’s mouth and when James rolled on his back, Sherlock helped John to settle on his lap, before he settled back on his knees next to them.

John placed his hands on either side of James’ head, rolling his hips.

Sherlock kissed John between his shoulder blades before reaching back, grabbing the lube and condoms from his bedside drawer. James’ hand settled on his hip.

 

‘Prepare him for me?’

 

John’s hands fisted the sheets and something dangerously close to a whimper escaped him. Sherlock let his free hand trace the shiver down John’s back and he tried to imagine seeing James’ cock slide inside of John. They never did that much. It felt easier – no, it felt more natural to have John lead. To surrender to him. To have John take care of him, like he always did.

But the need to see this side of John, the side that gave himself up willingly for James, was near overwhelming and the image his imagination conjured up, made him ache with want.

 

Sherlock bit his lips and nodded.

 

James let out a shaky breath before smiling. He hadn’t removed his hand from Sherlock’s hip and he didn’t when Sherlock opened the lube bottle to coat his fingers.

 

‘John?’

 

‘Oh God yes. Do it.’

 

Sherlock moved a little closer to John, gently letting his fingers slide over John’s balls to his perineum. John groaned, but he muffled the noise against James’ shoulder. ‘Don’t John,’ James whispered and Sherlock started to press the tip of his finger against John’s hole. ‘We want to hear you. Don’t we, Sherlock?’

 

James tightened his hand on Sherlock’s thigh. ‘Yes,’ Sherlock breathed out. ‘Yes, John, please…’ And he slid his finger inside of John.

 

‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ John pushed back to him, ensuring that Sherlock’s finger was all the way inside of him and James mumbled something approvingly but Sherlock couldn’t decipher the words.

With the heat and tightness of John’s body clamping down on his, even though it was just on his finger, Sherlock’s senses suffered an overload. There was nothing, no one, but the feeling of John and James underneath and around his hands.

 

‘More. Sherlock, give me another one.’

 

What else could Sherlock do but to do as John asked him? Especially when he talked to him like that. James chuckled breathlessly at John’s impatience but he said nothing of it. The laughter fell from his lips when another finger breached John and John responded by rubbing his erection against James’.

James was gripping Sherlock’s leg hard now, but Sherlock didn’t care. He placed his free hand on top of it and as if on instinct, their fingers tangled together.

 

Sherlock tried to stay clear from John’s prostate as much as possible – he didn’t want this to be over soon – and it didn’t take long before John started pressing back against his fingers. ‘Sher… God, James, fuck me.’

 

Neither man questioned if John was sure. They didn’t have to; John’s tone made it very clear that he would take matters into his own hands if they didn’t give him what he wanted. John was stubborn like that and they both knew it.

James and Sherlock untangled their hands and Sherlock carefully removed his fingers. James reached out for the condoms, handing one of the wrappers to John, who made quick work of it. He settled his hands on John’s hip, ready to guide him.

 

Sherlock squeezed another large dollop of lubrication into his hand and carefully, so he wouldn’t over stimulate him, began to slick up James’ cock.

 

He was longer than John, Sherlock noted, though the girth was roughly the same. His hand lingered, teasing the sensitive head through the material of the condom and James hissed in response. ‘Sherlock…’

 

Oh that voice. Sherlock swallowed, his eyes meeting John’s briefly. He looked gorgeous like this. Cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide and his shortly cropped hair an absolute mess. And that smile! John was happy and Sherlock’s heart did something wild in response.

John grabbed him, slamming their mouths together. Sherlock let go of James, scrambling to get a hold of John’s shoulders to keep them both upright, but John was moving, sinking down, and John’s sharp hiss interrupted their kiss along with James’ deep groan of pleasure.

 

Sherlock leaned back and watched James’ cock disappear inside John. John rocked his hips a little, taking in more of James with each movement and it wasn’t long before James started moving his hips to meet them.

 

‘Oh no, you don’t,’ James’ voice suddenly interrupted him and Sherlock froze. His hand had been moving to his own erection to relieve some of the pressure. ‘Come here, Sherlock. John…’

 

‘Yeah, I’m fine, for God’s sake, just…’

 

Sherlock shuffled closer to James, still on his knees, and when James firmly grabbed his cock, he gasped in surprise. John was moving on his own now, his muscles flexing and trembling with the strain. James was moving in hand in time with John’s movements and – oh God! Sherlock could already feel his orgasm building in the base of his spine.

‘Touch yourself, Sherlock,’ James removed his hand. Sherlock nearly buckled with the sudden lack of friction, but when he felt James’s fingers against his still lube coated hand, he did what he was told. Soon, cold slicked fingers were reaching behind him, probing his hole and Sherlock moved his hand over himself.

 

‘Jesus, look at you two,’ John managed to get out. ‘I’m… James, God…’

 

James said nothing but Sherlock could feel him speed up his movements. John cried out. He was close, Sherlock knew. And he could come like this, without a hand on him; Sherlock had been responsible for it a couple of times. James seemed to know this as well. He was relentless, placing his feet on the bed so he could drive his hips up with a higher speed and more force.

 

Amazing. Stunning.

 

Sherlock could have watched them for ages and not get bored.

 

But John turned his face to Sherlock and he could feel his control spiralling out of control at the sight of him. John’s hand was trembling when he reached and grabbed Sherlock’s neck, pulling their mouths together again. It wasn’t a kiss; they both lacked the focus for that. But their lips and teeth grazed as James continued to push up into John.

 

And with a shout against Sherlock’s lips, John came. James didn’t slow down for him though and John quivered, struggling to stay upright as wave after wave of pleasure wrecked him. Sherlock followed not long after. The sounds being forced from John’s throat and James insistent finger pulled him over the edge and that was when James allowed himself to let go.

 

He groaned, a long deep primal sound and his hips stilled.

 

John sagged against James, not caring about the mess he made on James’ chest and James carefully pulled his finger out. He stroked Sherlock’s ass for a second and Sherlock shivered at the sensation. They stayed like that for a moment, catching their breaths with their eyes closed – well, James and John had theirs closed. Sherlock couldn’t stop looking at them.

 

‘Come here,’ James muttered. But Sherlock shook his head.

 

‘He needs to wash,’ John mumbled against James’ neck. He hadn’t even bothered to open his eyes. ‘He can’t relax otherwise.’

 

‘Honestly John, if you think I’d enjoy waking up, sticking all over…’

 

‘Yeah, yeah, just go.’

 

Sherlock smiled softly and with weak legs, stumbled to the bathroom. He wet the flannel quickly, rubbing himself clean, before rinsing it again and he went back. He stopped in his tracks at the sight that greeted him.

 

John had rolled off of James and had settled on his side against James. His head rested on his shoulder. The condom had been removed, knotted closed and discarded in the little bin by the bed. James had his good arm wrapped around John’s shoulders, holding him close, and stroking his upper arm lazily. John had his eyes closed already, completely relaxed, but James regarded Sherlock with heavy eyes.

 

Sherlock exhaled. He might have set out to make John happier, but strangely, Sherlock felt more content that he had before right now. James was not just here for John, he was here for Sherlock also and the feeling of earlier returned. He wanted to explore James. Map out every inch. Know him, truly know him.

 

John’s heart was big enough for the both of them and as Sherlock crawled on the bed to clean them, he wondered if his own might be bigger than expected.

 

‘Stop thinking, love,’ John murmured and James chuckled deeply. Sherlock scowled in response but he settled against John’s back anyway. James moved his hand to rustle through Sherlock’s curls a bit and Sherlock closed his eyes when a shiver wrecked through him.

 

‘He told you,’ he accused and James smiled in response.

 

‘He might have done.’

 

‘Shut up, you two. Go to sleep. Talk tomorrow.’ John moved his hand from James’ waist to pat Sherlock’s hip spooned against him.

 

‘Was he like this before?’

 

‘Are you kidding? One orgasm and he would be out like a light.’

 

‘James…’

 

‘The man asked, John.’

 

‘You don’t get to team up on me.’

 

‘Go to sleep John.’ Sherlock pressed a kiss against John’s shoulder and John hummed something unrecognisable in response. But he did.

 

Sherlock and James looked at each other over John’s head, both of them smiling fondly. Yes, for John Watson, they would try. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your reactions mean the world to me. Please, let me know what you think of it so far.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been in a polyamorous relationship or situation. This is in no way, shape or form meant to insult, belittle or ridicule those of you who are.

John was the first one the wake up. He felt sore but not unpleasantly so, and warm. Very warm. He blinked a couple of times and a smile crept up on his lips when he remember last night. James. And Sherlock. And him.

 

Christ.

 

Sherlock was laying on his stomach, his scarred back bare and his face turned away from them but John knew he was still asleep; he’d never be this still when awake. James was pressed up against the other side of John, his arm wrapped around his waist, heavy and warm, pinning him into place. He still snored, John realised. Just a little. Not loud enough to be bothersome, but enough to know that it would turn louder in a minute or so.

 

Luckily, James already seemed to wake up on his own. His face scrunched and he stretched his legs before opening his eyes.

 

And he smiled. ‘Morning…’

 

‘Good morning.’

 

‘Last night was…’ James seemed to struggle for words and John grabbed James’ hand.

 

‘Yeah. It was.’

 

James smile widened and they titled their heads towards each other so their lips would brush. John felt James’ fingers against his skin tighten for a moment before relaxing again. The kiss was unhurried  and eventually they pulled back to let their foreheads rest against each other.

 

‘Sherlock?’ James asked and John nodded behind him.

 

‘Asleep. As long as he isn’t working, he’ll sleep like the dead.’

 

James gave John a pointed look and it took John a moment. ‘Ah,’ he muttered. ‘Yeah. Well, that is the past. He and I tiptoed around it long enough.’

 

James snorted and John frowned. ‘What?’

 

‘Him,’ James retorted with a grin. ‘On your wedding. The entire speech. It was… painful to watch to be completely honest. You really didn’t…’

 

‘Don’t fucking remind me,’ John muttered and he wasn’t surprised feel that his mood had darkened. They had wasted years. Years! But James pulled him closer, nuzzling his neck.

 

‘Don’t,’ he whispered. ‘Sherlock and I… we talked before and after things went wrong with your wife. He doesn’t blame you. Never has. The man loves you, John.’ John nodded silently as James pressed a kiss behind his ear. ‘We both do.’

 

John turned his head sharply at that, nearly bumping noses with James. He had never heard those words from James’ mouth and he had never said them to James either. He had felt them. Oh how he had felt them when James’ lips touched his for the first time. Or when James pressed him chest first against the wall. And the words had ached in his bones when an IED had very nearly taken James away from him. John had hid himself away from them, and from James, terrified of what might happen.

James had ambushed him several days later, while he was still limping a bit, and told him, commanded him, never to do that again. They hadn’t said the words then but John had felt them reverberate inside of them both that night.

 

He’d been shot mere days later.

 

James hadn’t come to see him once. And John had given up.

 

‘James…’

 

‘I do, John. I do love you and I should have said it back then. But this… this is good too.’

 

John took a deep breath before bringing their lips together again, this time with more force. James responded just as fervently. John’s chest felt ready to explode. Here he was, between the men he loved most in his life, the two men who had changed his life forever. And if James noticed that John’s eyes were burning with unshed tears, he didn’t mention it.

 

Sherlock stirred behind John but James didn’t pull away from him. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed. Perhaps he didn’t care. But John could feel Sherlock turning to his side, pressing himself up against John’s back. Sherlock’s long fingers caressed their joint hands for a moment before he opened his mouth. ‘You’ve started without me.’

 

John could practically hear the pout in his voice and a shaky chuckle escaped him. James pulled back from John’s lips and he looked over to Sherlock’s face in amusement. ‘You slept in.’

 

‘I did not!’

 

‘Yes, you did.’

 

‘John?’

 

‘Yes, you did.’

 

‘John!’

 

‘Now you know how it felt when you two ganged up on me last night.’

 

‘Oh, shut up and kiss me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your reactions mean the world to me. 
> 
> I've been thinking about some one-shot prequels (the conversation between James and Sherlock without John & John and James in Afghanistan to name two). Please, let me know what you thought of it and you'd be interested and reading those. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, following, leaving kudos and commenting.

**Author's Note:**

> Your reactions mean the world to me. Please, let me know what you think of it so far.


End file.
